


A Matter of Self Control

by AnlenMey



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, His Last Vow Spoilers, M/M, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Parentlock, Romance, Single Parents, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnlenMey/pseuds/AnlenMey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There comes a time when a person has to do what he believes, no matter what the consequences might be. John Watson believes that now is his time. John and Sherlock haven't seen each other for 3 years, but now John needs his help, and he won't take no for an answer. Post-HLV. JOHNLOCK.v</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1- Three Years

There comes a time when a person has to do what he believes, no matter what the consequences might be.

John Watson believes that now is his time.

The hour is half past midnight, and he's pacing down the dark and cold streets of west London with his sleepy little daughter in his arms. Emily is almost 3 years old now, some say it is the perfect age; the cutest age in a human life.

John is thinking the same, but then again, he guesses that all parents think that way about their messy little children, regardless of age. He loves Emily more than he loves anyone else, more than life itself. When she was born, all John was able to think about is what if he won't be good enough of a father for this little angel, but he was determined that he would do his best. He would do anything in his power to protect her, and that's exactly what he's doing.

"Daddy," Emily whispers to him tiredly, "You still haven't told me where we are going." John snuggles his daughter and smiles at her. Looking in her eyes, which are just like her mother's. People say that her eyes are the only things Emily got from Mary, everything else was all John's; the smile, the lips, the ears, the blond(ish) hair. No one could doubt that she is his daughter, and that is a very pleasing thought for a father.

"Sweetie, you're going to meet your godfather." John kisses her temple and doesn't let her see the tears that come down his face while he says that to her.

Emily never met Sherlock, he just vanished from John and Mary's life after she was born. He had no reason whatsoever to do so, but he refused to stay in touch with them, even when they just called from time to time. They went to Baker Street countless times, but he ignored them no matter what they did; he was just oblivious to their existence.

It was this way for a year, until John got a letter from Sherlock on Emily's first birthday. The letter was short, but the message was clear: he still cares. And that was more than enough for John to survive this.

While John enters Baker Street he thinks about all the times he was so close to just breaking into the flat and forcing Sherlock to tell him what was wrong. He wants to yell at Sherlock, make him see how much pain he caused him, demand explanations and never leave the flat again unless Sherlock is by his side.

He has had his speech all worked up for the last 3 years and he can't wait for the chance to finally use it.

But of course, as John knocks on the door of 221B, his mind is suddenly empty and his heart is pounding faster than it should be.

Within a few seconds, a tall figure opens the door. Sherlock is wearing his blue dressing gown and his hair is messy in a way that makes it clear to John that they woke him up. He looks exactly the way he looked 3 years ago, as if only a day had passed since they chased after Moriarty together and Emily was born. Sherlock is surprised to see them, his eyes are open wide, but other than that, his face remains an expressionless mask.

"We need your help," John says before Sherlock can get the chance to recover from the surprise and close the door in their faces.

Sherlock is looking at him with his "collecting data" stare, which John didn't really appreciate right now. He didn't want Sherlock to know everything that happened in the last few years with just one look, he wants to have a normal conversation, with his speech and all. He worked on that speech far too long to be shushed with a stare.

Sherlock opens the door, gestures for John to go up the stairs and walks quietly behind him. John's hands are shaking as he goes up the 17 stairs and comes to open the door to what was, once upon a time, his flat.

He has so many memories from this flat. The best years of his life were in that flat with the man who's standing behind him.

Sherlock clears his throat, which kicks John back to reality. He opens the door, to see that nothing has changed. Nothing at all. Everything is still messy with books, experiments, and dirt. John smiles against his daughter's temple as a feeling of 'home' fills every cell in his body. It's the happiest he has felt over at least a year, and it overwhelms him. He inhales deeply and lets his eyes wander, taking in all he can, just in case Sherlock should kick him out of the flat in a few minutes.

Sherlock closes the door behind him and eyes John carefully. This time John doesn't mind, he's too damn happy to mind, and he has no way to explain why, even to himself.

"You can put her in my bed," Sherlock says as he walks toward the kitchen and puts the kettle on.

John nods and carries Emily into Sherlock's room. The bedroom is as messy as the living room . Sherlock's huge bed is covered with what seem like dozens of books and blueprints. John makes room for Emily on the bed and puts her to sleep. He whispers softly that he loves her and kisses her temple with a "goodnight." He turns off the lights and closes the door behind him, praying with his all heart that his daughter would never remember this day.

When John gets back to the living room, Sherlock is already sitting in his normal armchair, sipping tea.

"You made tea?" John asks, surprised. For some reason, the doctor is focusing on the fact that Sherlock made tea, rather than on what it was that brought him to the flat in the first place.

Sherlock arches an eyebrow and smiles a wry smile.

"I see you're still as observant as always, John, good to know that having a child didn't ruin you completely." Sherlock chuckles and John takes a seat on the couch. His old armchair is nowhere to be seen, and John feels himself hurt more than he would like to admit.

"Why would you think that having Emily ruined me?" he asks and tries really hard not to sound as offended as he feels.

"People usually change after having a child," Sherlock says in a bored tone that John is too mad to admit he missed. Sherlock takes another sip and adds, "Mary sure did."

John feels as if his skin is on fire as Sherlock mentions Mary. His heart is pounding in anger and depression, and everything he tried to keep under the surface in the last few hours for Emily's sake emerged in a rush.

"John? Do you want to talk about it?" John looks at Sherlock as if he's gone mad, because Sherlock never showed he cared before, he never asked to be told before. And John wants to share, wants to take all his sorrow and disappointment out of his body; he feels it has been trapped there for years, and this is finally his chance to get it out.

"You're right," he begins and Sherlock leaves his cup of tea and pays full attention to John. "People change after having a baby and Mary changed. In the first few months after Emily was born, everything was okay, we had no fights or serious disagreements. She acted as if everything is normal, like Emily is the only thing in the world that matters. After about 10 months, when Emily started to walk and pronounce things that began to sound more like words than just sounds, something changed. She started to leave Emily home alone with her friends, and she came home in the middle of the night, smelling of cigarettes and gunpowder." John waits another second before he continues with a trembling voice.

"She started to do her old job again. My wife was an assassin. Just out of nowhere. It was obvious but she kept denying it and told me all this nonsense about hanging out at some clubs that didn't even exist. I got why she did it, I missed the thrill we had in life, too, but I never would have put Emily in such danger. So I told her that if she didn't stop, I would get a divorce, so she did. She stopped. But she also stopped being herself. She started drinking and she still paid no attention to her daughter. I thought about divorce many times but always came to the conclusion that it might not be a good solution; thought that I should just give her another chance. And another one. It went on like this for more than a year." John lets out a hissed breath and Sherlock notices how his body tenses with every single word he says.

"What happened today?" Sherlock asks and he's frankly scared to know the answer; whatever Mary did, she definitely broke John mentally, and even after all the years during which Sherlock did his best to stay away, it is hard for him to see John.

"When I arrived home today she was completely drunk, with a gun pointed at Emily. Accused her of ruining her life. Then she cried and apologized, and then started yelling and throwing glasses at me. I took Emily out of there as fast as I could, finally signed the divorce papers, like I should have done a long time ago, and came here." John sighs heavily and shuts his eyes. It feels surprisingly calming to tell Sherlock all of that, to share the burden with his closest friend.

Sherlock gets up from his seat and his hands are shaking, John can't really figure out why. He still wants to say his speech, he still wants answers, but something tells him that he should wait. Sherlock won't kick him out now, he still cares.

Before John even notices, Sherlock takes out his mobile phone, dials and disappears into the kitchen. When he starts talking John can't hear a word; Sherlock is whispering for some reason, and comes back to the living room less than a minute later.

"Mycroft will bring you everything you need by tomorrow morning. You two can stay here as long as you wish," Sherlock says and sits next to John on the couch. He's so surprised by this announcement that he isn't quite sure how to react. It was exactly what he wanted of course, but after the last three years, he didn't think Sherlock would actually consider letting them stay in his flat for more than one night.

"Sherlock," he starts but he isn't really sure what to say; there are too many things to say, too many things he planned to say, but nothing seemed important now, as he's here with Sherlock. In the very same flat, sitting on the very same couch, breathing the same bloody air. Everything seems so right, so utterly perfect, that John doesn't want to spoil it with words. So when Sherlock just pats his back awkwardly, John is smiling and leans into the touch of the person he didn't feel complete without, and yet had to be without for the last 3 years.

After everything he's been through in the last 3 years, after everything that happened with Mary, he finally feels complete. Something feels so right, after so long that everything felt wrong.

"Come on," Sherlock suddenly says and makes John jump in his seat, "You have to rest, you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow." John knows he's right, but stays seated. Sherlock rolls his eyes and gets up, holding up a hand to John. John takes Sherlock's hand reluctantly; though he would prefer to stay safe and comfortable with Sherlock on the couch, he lets Sherlock lead him toward his old room upstairs anyway.

"Sherlock," John starts again and Sherlock grunts in response.

"Whatever it is, John, it can wait until tomorrow. I have things to do, and holding heart-to-heart conversations isn't one of them," he says and pushes John into his old bed, and John is surprised that it is even still here.

"Goodnight now," Sherlock says as he leaves the room. John wants to ask him where he is going to sleep, and then ask him to stay with him, or at least promise he's not going anywhere, but John knows he's just being childish and ridiculous. And a bit obsessive. And paranoid. But who gives a shit?

It's been a long day, and tomorrow is going to be another one. He should listen to Sherlock and get some sleep. The bed smells like Sherlock and John can't help but wonder if Sherlock slept in his bed while he wasn't here. John feels himself smiling and relaxing at that thought.

Sherlock won't leave him again, he knows that. He even knows that Sherlock cares more than he shows, but refuses to think about it properly. The only thing that interests John Watson as he closes his eyes and let his mind drift him into the joy of a peaceful sleep, is that he's here, in 221B, with Sherlock Holmes.

And nothing can change that.


	2. Chapter 2 - Forget but Not Forgive

Chapter 2- Forget but Not Forgive

Sherlock Holmes wasn't an ordinary man, everyone knew that, even the least perceptive person who ever laid eyes on him knew that.  
So when Sherlock Holmes felt the stab in his chest when he saw John after almost 3 years, he was sure that something in him had been ruined. He reacted like an ordinary man; with all the heart fluttering and the anxious nausea that he swore he’d never have. It took more than a few seconds for Sherlock to understand that John wasn’t alone, and that was even more embarrassing for Sherlock to admit.  
Sherlock was fascinated by the look of the small creature in John’s arms. She looked just like her father, and that made Sherlock love her in a heartbeat. But that wasn’t even the worst part. 

The worst part was going to happen later when Sherlock pushed John into his old bed and had to fight the unexplainable impulse to join him.  
For almost three years (two years and 297 days, he reminds himself), that he had done his absolute best to stay away from John Watson. It was one of the most difficult things he had to do, but it was better than putting John and Mary in danger.  
Moriarty was waiting for them, Sherlock was sure of that, and he had to get them out of the spotlights. Since Moriarty came back three years ago, Sherlock and John had chased him around on several occasions, but none of those times came to a satisfying conclusion. When Emily was born, Sherlock figured out that the longer Moriarty was free, the more dangerous he would become. He had already received all kinds of threats from Moriarty about Emily and John, and he was sickened by the horrible ideas. Therefore, something had to be done, something to keep them away from Moriarty’s claws; kicking them out of his life seemed like the easiest, most practical solution. And he didn’t like it one bit. 

At first, things went terribly wrong, as things always did when John was not around. Sherlock was practically broken, he barely left the flat, and when he did, it was for only Moriarty-related cases. There were a lot of those, but not enough to keep him occupied for long. He smoked all the time, composed, and was always alone. He barely spoke with anyone; even with Mycroft or Greg. He was completely alone, and felt tortured by John's disappearance from his life. When John first came to Baker Street, it was about a month after Sherlock decided to kick him out of his life. John looked so sad and disappointed, so hurt as he thought that Sherlock didn't want him around anymore, that he didn't need him. He didn’t understand that there was nothing Sherlock wanted more than to be with John for the rest of his life. 

There’s an old saying that says only when you lose someone, do you understand how much he means to you. Sherlock had thought about that saying ever since he jumped off that building 6 years ago, and had to spend two whole years without John. The worst two years of his life, that’s for sure. But also, he learned during those two years that he had something ordinary in him, something he never wanted to have, it was someone else’s dream. He learned what it’s like to be in love.  
He had never felt like this before; at first it wasn’t that bad, but as time passed it just got worse. He began to lose himself in daydreams and being all ridiculously emotional. It got even worse when Sherlock came back and John returned to his life. Sherlock was as happy as a person like him can be, but felt his heart break a little bit every time he saw Mary kiss John or hug him, or basically just saw them together.  
The great Sherlock Holmes was in love.  
Still in love, unfortunately. 

So when John Watson came to his doorstep, asking for his help with a little baby in his arms, there was no way Sherlock could have said ‘no’, even if he really wanted to. Which, of course, he didn't. He did his best to hide the sudden joy he felt when he saw John, and especially when John told him about the divorce.

It didn't change anything, it was not like Sherlock could just grab his hand, take him to his bed and make him scream with joy (even though he really wanted to.) But, at least there was hope. And Sherlock could sure use some hope in this awful situation. 

Sherlock is now coming downstairs from John’s old room, trying to fight the stubborn thoughts about joining him in bed. Not for sex or anything like that (not that he would mind,) but just so he could spend every second next to John. Pathetic little wish, he knows that, but unfortunately it doesn’t help him to suppress any of his wishes that are John-related.  
Sherlock picks up his violin, figuring it might help to suppress some of his thoughts, but as he do so, he remembers it’s not just him in this flat anymore: John could use some good sleep, and then there’s the baby to consider. No, the violin would have to wait until morning. He shouldn’t make John want to run away from the flat before he even gets the chance to spend a little time with him. 

Sherlock looks around the flat, trying to find something that would keep him away from his thoughts, and decides to start a new experiment. But for the first time in his life, it would be a sentimental experiment.  
Determined and not at all scared (probably because he is a bit high, but no one has to know that), he decides to start a new experiment about John’s reactions to him after those 3 agonizing years.  
First, they will need to recover their friendship, which John clearly needs right now. He needs all the comfort and the support he can get from Sherlock and Sherlock isn’t going to let him down. He will do anything to help John get through this rough time, including dealing with the divorce and helping with Emily. He would show John that, and then Sherlock will begin with his master plan.  
Sherlock would make John fall in love with him.  
He can do it, of course he can.  
He’s the great Sherlock Holmes, remember? 

Then again, making a person fall in love with you might be a bit hard for a high-functioning sociopath, Sherlock thinks to himself as he sits in his armchair, trying to figure out the perfect way to make John fall in love with him. Even though the falling-in-love thing is the desired result, Sherlock cannot deny that the progress is no less important; he knows for sure that John will need time to adjust to the new situation and it’s better for him to actually think and not just fall into Sherlock’s arms with uncontrolled passion. No, that’s not what Sherlock wants. He wants to be more than just his occasional comforting sexual partner, he wants something real. Sherlock closes his eyes and tries to focus. He decides that the best thing to start with is an apology; Sherlock hates to apologize, but it is absolutely necessary for John to rely on him again.  
He has to promise, even without words, that he won’t abandon John again, as he did twice before.

Sherlock feels a stab of guilt in his chest as he thinks about all the things John has gone through the last three years, and Sherlock wasn’t there to help him as John would have been if things were the other way around. He had wanted to run back into John’s life so many times, but stopped himself as he remembered that John would be much safer without him.  
Sherlock tries to suppress the thoughts about the last three years, or at least cut the emotions from them, and starts to figure the perfect way to retrieve John’s trust in him.  
Sentiment has never been his area; nevertheless, he promises himself that he won’t give up — he will do his best. No matter how hard it might be, he will never, never give up on John; the universe has given him a third chance, and he won’t mess it up this time for the world.  
It is all a matter of self-control, really, and Sherlock is the master of self-control.  
At least, so he thinks. 

The next morning John gets up to the smell of freshly cooked eggs and coffee. He wakes up confused and a bit overwhelmed by where he is. This isn't the way he remembered mornings in Baker Street; the mornings he remembered were generally filled with Sherlock playing the violin or conducting some awful experiments in the kitchen, usually including various body parts stolen from Bart’s. Sometimes he wasn’t even home when John woke up, and was already running on some new case, leaving John to his boring job at the surgery. But if there’s anything missing from John’s memories, it is of Sherlock making or even eating breakfast. Yesterday he made tea, today he is making breakfast… John doesn’t really know what to think, but he can’t control the extraordinary happiness that takes over suddenly. Being back in Baker Street sure does amazing things for the soul, John thinks to himself sarcastically. He can only imagine the irritated eye-rolling Sherlock would have given him if he said it out loud.

He comes down the stairs as he hears the sound of his daughter’s laugh and Sherlock's playful voice. “Good morning, John, slept well?” Sherlock asks as John comes into the kitchen and kisses Emily’s forehead with a good morning greeting. Without waiting for an answer Sherlock adds, “I made some breakfast. I hope you don’t mind, but as your youngest just told me, it is horrifying.” Emily giggles and looks at her godfather with complete admiration in her eyes as if she has known him since the day she was born. It shouldn’t surprised John so much, really, she is a Watson after all.  
“So what do you suggest then?” John asks and looks at the pan; what was in it John cannot guess. If it smells like eggs, looks like rice and Sherlock made it- it must be safer not to eat it.  
“Well, I hoped you could cook something for us, but I see you haven’t slept very well at all, and clearly you are exhausted. So maybe we can go eat downstairs at Speedy’s. I’m paying.” John looks at Sherlock astonished; with his both deduction and consideration about his sleep and also about his suggestion to go eat breakfast outside, which he offers to pay for. He has already forgotten what it’s like to live with Sherlock Holmes — every day is a surprise.

Five minutes later, they are coming down the stairs to eat some breakfast. For John it feels like celebrating his first morning, hopefully among many, in Baker Street. As Sherlock opens the front door, they hear footsteps behind them, and John remembers that Mrs. Hudson doesn’t know that he has moved back in, even if it’s just for a short while. Mrs. Hudson comes out of her flat and shouts in surprise as she sees John for the first time in more than a year. She hugs him tightly, weeping with joy as he tells her that he is moving back in for a week or so.  
“I’m so happy you finally resolved all those little arguments between you two, we need you here, John.” John gives Sherlock a swift glance and sees that Sherlock is feeling extremely uncomfortable. John knows that only he can sense it, that only he knows him well enough to recognize those glimpses of emotions Sherlock shows from time to time, and is glad that he can still see them, even though a long time has gone by since he last saw the great heart as well as the great mind.  
John quickly changes the subject to Sherlock’s relief and introduces Emily to Mrs. Hudson, who’s weeping with joy as the little child says ‘hello.’ Emily clearly isn’t used to be the center of attention, and she blushes when Mrs. Hudson praises her for being “unbelievably beautiful and cute.”  
John holds his daughter’s hand and smiles at Mrs. Hudson. As politely as he can, he tells her that they are hungry and in a hurry, so they can’t stay and chitchat. Mrs. Hudson pats his shoulder and hugs Sherlock, wishing them both a good morning and that she won’t give up on a proper conversation so quickly. John promises her to come for a cuppa in the afternoon, and she finally lets them go for their early breakfast. 

They find a nice spot in Speedy’s and order bacon sandwiches for the three of them. They eat in comfortable silence. John and Sherlock are staring at each other with so many unspoken questions in their eyes that they are both eager to know the answers to. But they can’t really open the subject in front of the child, who’s staring at them staring at each other.  
“Do you hate each other?” she asks innocently. Both Sherlock and John look at her, completely shocked by her question. Sherlock is the first one to recover: “Of course not,” he says to her, “Why would you think that?”  
“You are staring at each other in a really weird way. I never saw daddy staring at someone like that. And you didn’t talk for decades. It only made sense,” she says and shrugs, seeming worried about their response, as if she might be punished for that false deduction. 

“It’s not hate, love, not at all. We just need to get use to each other again; it’s been a long time since we spent time with one another.” John gives Sherlock a meaningful look as he explains the situation gently to his daughter. Emily gives Sherlock a doubtful look, and moves a hand through her hair.  
Finally, she asks him the question that she has wanted to ask since she saw him this morning: “Am I supposed to love you even though you hurt papa?”  
Sherlock tenses immediately and looks despondently at John. He didn’t know what to say to the little girl.  
“I’m sure he had his reasons, right, Sherlock?” John asks and sounds despondent himself, although it seems that it’s for a whole different reason.  
“You have no idea,” Sherlock confirms and relaxes as John and Emily give him a reassuring look. 

An hour later, all three of them are upstairs, sitting in the living room. Sherlock is thinking, as usual, and John reads “Alice in Wonderland” to little Emily.  
It is peaceful and pleasant, and feels like home. As if it is meant to be exactly like this, just John, Sherlock and Emily.  
Who even cares about Mary? Or Moriarty? Right now they have each other, and a long road in front of them so they could build up their friendship again. John still wants his answers and Sherlock still wants to start his plans to make things different, but all that can wait until later.  
Right now, they can actually enjoy the togetherness, the domestic bliss that relaxes them.  
Sherlock looks at John as he reads the story, and he feels something stirring in his stomach.  
Sentiment; what an awful yet a wonderful thing, he thinks to himself, and lets himself relax at the unique sight. 

But Sherlock doesn’t know that troubles are about to knock on their door, and the most horrible and wonderful things that he’ll ever experience are just around the corner.


	3. Chapter 3- Someplace New

Chapter 3- Someplace New

"Hungry?" Sherlock asks John after more than two hours of complete silence during which they both pretended to be reading, but were mainly deep in their own trains of thoughts.   
"Hmm?" John doesn't bother to raise his head from the newspaper, even though he has been staring at the same word for at least a minute.   
"Are you hungry, John?" Sherlock asks again, rises to his feet and looks at John nervously. He starts pacing impatiently in the living room, as he always does when he can’t totally control all his trains of thoughts.   
"Why? Are you about to try cooking again? Because if that's the case, I think that Emily and I will order some Chinese." John still hasn't lifted his head from the newspaper, refusing to let Sherlock look at him properly. He knows that if he let him, Sherlock would know exactly what he's thinking about, just as always. Sherlock stops pacing after he understands that being annoying won’t get John to pay attention, so he tries a different approach, more direct one. 

"No, John, I think we should go out. You obviously have some questions, and I have some of my own, for that matter. You want to talk this through, right?" John finally glances at Sherlock, but he looks doubtful and worried about what Sherlock just offered. He knows that they need to talk in order to make things right again, but he is terrified of what he might hear from Sherlock, and what he would say in return. He tells himself to be a man and nods hesitantly.   
He folds the newspaper and takes out his phone.   
"What are you doing?" Sherlock folds his arms on his chest, figuring John is going to be as slow as always, and he can’t even rush him, because he is supposed to be nice. He comes to the conclusion that he hates to make people love him, and that trying so hard isn’t really his forte, but he changes his mind again when he sees John smiling at him. He loves and hates John’s smile at the same time, and that’s even more irritating.   
"Calling Diana, she's Emily's babysitter," John explains as he dials her number and waits for her to pick up. Sherlock snatches the phone from his hand and hangs up before Diana can answer; John looks at him confused, so Sherlock explains.   
"No need for her, John, I already asked Molly if she'd mind keeping an eye over her. She is on her way over as we speak. Besides, it's only for dinner, and Molly is a wonderful cook; I'm sure she is adequate enough to make Emily something she'd like." 

John can't help himself and smiles broadly. Sherlock is being considerate for the first time since he has known him. That's something he can easily get used to, but knows he probably shouldn’t keep his hopes up. The knock on the door cuts his thoughts sharply and he smiles even wider when Sherlock goes to open the door, and he sees Molly standing in the doorway, with a light pink shirt and a pair of jeans. She looks beautiful and fragile as always, and her face turns into a deep shade of pink when she looks at Sherlock. Pinker than her shirt, actually. 

"Oh, Molly, so nice of you to be here. Please, come in," Sherlock says and opens the door widely, as an invitation. She nods, but barely able to look at him again; John notices and stares at her curiously.   
He forces himself to get up from the warm armchair and walks toward the blushing woman.   
"Molly," he says and spreads his arms for a hug, "so lovely to see you again, it's been over 2 years, right?" She hugs him and he can feel she is actually shivering. Now he is sure he's missing something.   
"Yes, I believe so. You look good, John, haven't aged a bit," she pats his shoulder and smiles genuinely. At least she is able to look at him, John thinks to himself and smiles back. He doubts her statement but feels flattered anyway and can't help but appreciate the way she looks even more beautiful since the last time he saw her. He may not have changed a lot, but she has, and for the best. 

There's a strange silence and the air becomes tense as Molly still won't look at Sherlock, at least not directly, and John can't quite figure out what's going on that he is missing. Then, he notices the way Sherlock looks at Molly, and the way she blushes even further at his staring, and it hits him shockingly.   
"You slept together." It isn’t a question, and no one even tries to deny. Molly just shuts her eyes with embarrassment, and Sherlock smirks dismissively. They keep standing in the living room; John staring at Sherlock staring at Molly, who tries to overcome the embarrassment.  
"Where's the little one?" Molly finally asks, breaking the awkward silence, which makes John remember why she's here in the first place.   
He escorts her to Sherlock's room but he can't seem to stop thinking about the fact that she slept with Sherlock, when he was sure that Sherlock kept everyone away from him. He didn’t think it was just him that Sherlock ditched, but it certainly seems to be the case. He should be happy for her, really, after all those years she's been in love with him, it's about time that something happened. Still, he would have preferred that he wasn’t the only one Sherlock kicked out of his life. Nevertheless, Molly is acting too strange to deduce that things ended well between her and Sherlock, and John just takes it as a bit of consolation. 

When he introduces Molly to Emily, Emily looks at him doubtfully, and he can't help but smiles as his daughter holds out her hand to shake Molly's.   
"John, are you coming?" Sherlock yells from the living room and John waits until he sees both reassuring smiles of Emily and Molly to leave the room and join Sherlock at the hall outside the flat. He locks the door behind them and smiles to himself when he hears Emily's laughter from inside the flat.

They walk silently, side by side. John follows Sherlock quietly, and doesn’t even bother to ask where they are going, because he truly doesn’t give a shit. He isn’t that hungry anyway, and Sherlock already knows what kind of food he likes, so no need to worry. He can trust Sherlock about that with his eyes closed.   
They walk together for about 20 minutes until they get into Upper Berkeley Street, and then to number 51, where there’s a nice restaurant called “The Portman.”  
John has been here several times, but always for some sort of special occasion.  
. He didn’t expect something new, he expected Sherlock to take him to Angelo’s or something like that, but not anything new.   
Apparently, Sherlock even booked a table for them and good for that because this restaurant is crowded enough to make him feel a bit claustrophobic. They sit in front of each other in awkward silence and John starts to move uncomfortably in his seat because of Sherlock’s piercing stare.   
“I’ll begin then, shall I?” Sherlock asks and John just smiles at him as encouraging him to start. He is sure though that the conversation just needs a little kick, and from there he could finally say everything that’s been on his mind ever since that time 3 years ago. Finally, he will get to use his speech, and that makes him very, very, happy. 

Sherlock takes in a hissed breath and starts talking.   
“Okay, John, I’m sorry,” he mumbles and continues quickly when he sees John frowns. “I’ve thought about this moment many times, how I am going to explain everything that has happened and all the reasons I did what I did, but I came to the conclusion that it doesn’t really matter. I am sorry for everything, but I don’t regret it even for one second. I am sorry for hurting you and your wife, ex wife, but I did what I had to do. Do you understand?” Sherlock asks hesitantly, because he has a feeling that not only does John not understand; he is furious with every word that Sherlock has just said, and damn—he is completely right.   
“I understand, of course I understand. I understand that you’re a huge dick and a lousy friend!” John begins to lose his temper, and fuck it; it’s barely been two seconds. “You’re sorry but you’re not sorry? Really? If you had your reasons, then I want to hear them! You kicked me out, Sherlock, you ignored me, and you ditched me when I needed you the most. You were my best friend, and you just decided one day that you didn’t want me around anymore, and you think that ‘I’m sorry’ will do? Think again, genius!” John is yelling and the whole restaurant is staring at him, but he doesn’t care. It wasn’t even his speech. Oh, for god sakes, he should try to relax. Sherlock puts his hand over John’s in order to try and calm him down, but John takes his hand from Sherlock’s grip and stares at him with wide, mad eyes.   
“Don’t you touch me, Sherlock Holmes.” Sherlock is trying to hide how much he has been offended by the hatred in John’s tone, but John notices nevertheless and he looks at Sherlock softly again. He forces himself to calm down as he watches Sherlock order wine for the both of them. 

“Okay, Sherlock, I’m sorry I burst out like that, but can you listen to all I have to say?” Sherlock stares at him for a few seconds before he nods and he looks more tense than ever. John takes a few deep breaths before forcing himself to smile and starts to spit out his long-prepared speech.   
“When I came to your apartment 3 years ago, and you just told me to leave, I was sure you were simply having one of those moody days of yours, so I didn’t give it too much thought. But when I came again a month later with Emily, and you just ignored us, I started to realize that something was probably terribly wrong, and that I ought to help in some way. I ran after you, called you, and did everything I could, I never tried so hard for anyone in my life, but I’ve tried for you, because I didn’t want to lose you again. You were, Sherlock, and still are, truthfully, my best friend, and the thought of living without you again just ripped me from the inside. I know, sentiment isn’t really your thing, but please, do try to understand.   
I promised myself I wouldn’t let you go after the fall, yet it came to the point that something had to be done. And you can’t say I didn’t try-- for the first year all I did was run after you, but I had to give up, even though it broke my heart to do so. All those years, all I could think about was what could possibly be the reason for you to kick me out like this, what could I have possibly done to make you want to not talk to me ever again. And it broke me, Sherlock, it really did.” The waiter brings up their glasses and pours some French red wine into them. John stops talking and is just staring at Sherlock who seems terribly miserable and makes John feels a little bit uncomfortable. He takes a sip from the red wine and lets himself enjoy the taste as Sherlock opens his mouth to finally put the cards on the table. 

“I admit that this might not be the brightest thing I’ve ever done, but it was necessary at the time. I received a letter from Moriarty that passed a pretty clear message about what he intended to do to you and Emily. The letter was very explicit and utterly distressing, but it made me think about the whole situation in a different way. You see, up until that moment, I was sure that even after you had Emily, you and I would keep solving cases together and live life as we had lived it so far. The letter, well, the first letter, made me see how wrong I was. I had to find a way to protect both of you without putting you all in even greater danger. The quickest thing was to make James think you were no longer a part of my life. He had his doubts at first, but it worked, and for that I’m not sorry. I am sorry for not sharing this information with you sooner, as James has not been seen over the last year, but I’d take not talking to you any day if that meant you and Emily would stay safe.” Sherlock raises his glass and drinks half of it in one swallow. He is clearly uncomfortable with what he just said, but John just keeps thinking it was amazing. Truly overwhelming, actually. 

He knows he can’t stay mad with Sherlock forever, especially not after he said that he did all that to protect him and Emily. If it were any other day, John probably would stay convinced that Sherlock was just lying to him, trying to manipulate him for Sherlock’s own sake. Today, on the other hand, John has a strong feeling that not only is Sherlock telling the truth, he also suffered from his actions, and that makes John feel a little bit better, despite himself.   
John looks at the expressionless man in front of him, and remembers how many times in the last 3 years he had prayed for a moment like this; a moment of just him and Sherlock. Of talking about anything without the constant worries that he might say something wrong. He doesn’t have to restrain himself with Sherlock, and he knows that Sherlock feels the same. It always has been honesty and loyalty that kept them together, and the amazing part is that even after almost 3 years, that is what still keeps them in each other’s hearts. 

“Then, you are sorry, right?” John asks and raises his glass, too, yet does not drinks from it. He smells the wine and lets the aroma wash his cells with the scent of something so refreshing.   
“Yes, I am sorry, John.” Sherlock looks at him amused and lets a crocked smile to show on his face.   
“To us then, to forgiveness and friendship,” he says and drinks the good wine. He starts laughing when he sees Sherlock looking at him, stunned and surprised. Sherlock quickly recovers though, and he smiles broadly at John, as if he can’t believe his good fortune.   
“Oh, come on, Sherlock, we can keep talking about this but it won’t get us anywhere. I appreciate the reason you did what you did, and that doesn’t mean I completely forgive you, but let’s at least enjoy tonight, all right? I’m sure we’ll get on each other’s nerves soon, and we will talk about it repeatedly, but this is my first night out in a long time, let me have that. Sounds good?” Sherlock has to push the urge to take John’s hand again, and it seems like he just cannot stop smiling. John acts exactly the same and calls the waiter who brought them the wine.   
“I think Chivas will be good for now, thank you. Bring the whole bottle.” Both Sherlock and the waiter look at John surprised, and John just smiles wickedly and licks his lips. 

“What are we celebrating tonight, gentlemen?” Before Sherlock starts telling the waiter that it’s none of his damn business, John stops him and says instead: “We are celebrating the fact that I’m getting a divorce from the devil, have a beautiful daughter, and the fact that I’m here with my best friend. He is celebrating the fact that he finally got laid, that his arch enemy is alive, and the fact that there are still serial killers out there. I don’t know about you, but I think those are all damn good reasons to celebrate.”   
Shocked, the waiter looks at John and leaves, but Sherlock just laughs hysterically and he can’t seem to stop. 

John joins Sherlock’s laugh until all the heads at the restaurant are turned to look at them, but even then, they don’t really give a damn. The laughter releases all the tension between them in a way that makes John feel as if they are high.   
They only stop laughing when the bottle of scotch arrives at their table, and they start to talk about whatever happened with them over the last three years; they skip the heavy and sad parts, and only talk about the great moments they had, and things they had done that they never thought they would. John talks constantly about Emily, and how much light she brought into his life. Sherlock, as usual, talks about bizarre cases he had.   
Neither of them mentions the dark times, like when John stayed up all night because Emily had mono, or when he felt the creeping cold of loneliness in his guts when he missed Sherlock. And Sherlock doesn’t talk about the way he returned to drugs when he missed John, or the time when he wouldn’t go out of the apartment and wouldn’t shower or eat or sleep for days.   
There will be other nights to talk about that stuff, too, but right now all they can do is smile, and they refuse to let it go so quickly. 

Two hours later, and the bottle is still full, aside from 400 ml. that stayed untouchable in their glasses. They didn’t really need the alcohol to start talking, it was just the trigger, as a the matter of fact.   
They are still laughing; John feels that it seems like there are too many stories to tell, and not even one percent of them were told. When John tells Sherlock about Emily’s second birthday, Sherlock gets a phone call from a certain D.I. that John didn’t even notice how much he has missed.   
Sherlock tells Lestrade that he will be at the Yard in about 20 minutes and orders the bill. 

“Double homicide in Hammersmith, looks like a murder and a suicide, probably isn’t,” Sherlock leaves the money and gets up from his chair. John is just staring at him, not sure what he is supposed to do. He knows what he wants to do, but he isn’t sure of Sherlock’s opinion on the subject.   
“Are you coming, or do you want to spend your time with the idiot waiter?” Sherlock asks when he notices John doesn’t move at all.   
“Yes,” John agrees immediately, because there is no way he is going to allow Sherlock to leave without him.   
Sherlock smiles at him before dashing off, glad that he is going to be able to spend time with both his obsessions at once.  
This is going to be fun.


	4. Chapter 4- Back to Business

Chapter 4- Back to Business

An hour later, in one of the most beautiful and luxurious flats in Hammersmith, Greg Lestrade paces in annoyance while trying again and again to call an utterly mad consulting detective who promised he would be here 40 minutes ago.

"Twenty minutes my ass! Where the hell are you?!" he yells and hangs up the phone, leaving an angry message on Sherlock's voice mail for the fifth time.

"Anderson, get the staff, start to wrap up. Sherlock isn't coming." Anderson seems too disappointed by this announcement for Greg's taste, but it isn't like he is happy about the matter either.

When two paramedics intend to take the first body, Greg hears the elevator doors open in the hall; he can't be more relieved, and more damn annoyed.

"Sherlock bloody Holmes, where the hell-" Greg gets out of the flat and into the hall to see Sherlock and John walking toward the crime scene, side by side, as if it is the most regular thing in the world and not a minute has passed since the last time Greg saw them together like this.

"John! Christ, I haven't seen you since... wow, I think since your daughter was born. How is she? How is Mary?" he asks and hugs John fondly. Greg has always considered John as a good friend and a bright man, and he has always felt sorry for not keeping in touch with him unless Sherlock was somewhat involved.

John hugs him back and smiles at him wryly. "Emily is great, about to turn three in a month, thanks for asking. And, well, Mary and I are getting a divorce so... I don't really know about her." Greg looks at John, surprised, and John just smiles and shrugs in return. Greg has always thought that Mary and John were the perfect couple and would never separate. Then again, Greg had always thought that Sherlock and John could make a perfect match, and yet three years have passed as he watched Sherlock try to handle life without John.

Greg remembers the first few weeks after John's disappearance. "John's gone. He has his own life now. Piss off," was the only response he ever got from Sherlock about the matter. He mostly remembers that time as weeks when Sherlock wouldn't answer his calls, wouldn't leave the flat, and refused to help in any cases whatsoever. He remembers coming to 221B and seeing Sherlock sulking on the couch while mumbling John's name and demanding Greg to leave the flat. And no, he doesn't care that there's a serial killer who walks freely on the beautiful streets of London.

It took about two-three months for Greg to get Sherlock interested in cases again, but only in particular ones, ones that he thought had something to do with James Moriarty. There were times when Sherlock came to a crime scene and just turned his back and went home, because it was clear to him that Moriarty had nothing to do with the dead body in question.

For more than two years Sherlock has been interested with only Moriarty-related cases. Though it never seemed to be enough — after two years of sulking and almost no cases, Greg caught Sherlock using cocaine again. That just made Greg really cross with John, at the same time praying for his return. He wanted to abduct John from his comfortable life in the suburbs and show him how much his absence broke the consulting detective, leaving him a messy wreck of what was once Sherlock Holmes.

Greg has known all along that this whole thing is because of John's absence; you only need to be in the same room with the two of them and see the way Sherlock looks at John, even for just a split second, to know how much Sherlock loves this man.

Look at him now, Greg thinks to himself, he is practically beaming in joy, and he doesn't even seem high, which is even more encouraging. He has come willingly into a non-Moriarty case, and actually looks content.

Maybe Greg can forgive him for running so late tonight.

After all, three years seems a lot longer when the one you love is gone, and you have to sulk on the couch all day and torture people coming to visit you with horrifying violin notes.

Yeah, he should probably forgive him.

When Sherlock suggested they should walk to the crime scene rather than take a cab, John wasn't so sure it was such a good idea; but now, as they enter the fancy building, John is convinced that it had been a brilliant idea. For the entire hour Sherlock and John were just smiling peacefully as they walked the whole way to Hammersmith. No, they didn't talk, but John sees it as a good thing that he can still be in Sherlock's presence without having the need to fill the air with stupid, meaningless small talk; they are still very much satisfied with just enjoying each other's company.

When they walk into the flashy elevator, Sherlock breaks the comfortable silence, and smiles at John happily. "There's a big possibility that Greg might try to hug you. Just so you know. I would suggest running away, but it's your call," Sherlock's smile gets even wider when John laughs, and he can practically see the "I miss you" written all over his face. He isn't aware, however, that the same thing is written all over his face as well, and the twist in John's chest as he notices it. He has been doing such a great job in staying expressionless up until now, he doesn't even think it is an actual possibility.

When the doors open and Sherlock walks out of the elevator followed by John, John thinks to himself that this is the way his life should have been and decides that this is the way it is going to be from now on.

He almost bursts out laughing when Greg Lestrade goes pale from seeing him and can't resist a crooked smile as he notices Sherlock rolling his eyes when Greg pulls him for a hug, as expected. When he is being asked about Mary's well being, he notices the weird stare Greg is giving Sherlock: something between concern and relief. John tries to look for answers on Sherlock's face, but all he gets is an amused stare pointed at him.

Being under Sherlock's stare is like being under a hot spotlight, and god, how much has John missed that! If it were anyone else, John would probably hate it, but it is Sherlock, and Sherlock is the only person who's allowed to look at him like that, and who's practically welcome to do anything he wants — as long as it includes John again. John is so immersed in his thoughts about Sherlock that he doesn't even notice that Greg and Sherlock have started walking to the crime scene until Sherlock calls his name several times. He apologizes for his lack of attention and joins them in one of the flats.

There are two bodies on the floor surrounded in so much blood that it makes John question the fact that white is the default color of the floor. One of the bodies is a beautiful young woman, whom John is quite sure he has seen in a magazine or a billboard somewhere. She is dressed in a short black dress, with the potential murder weapon in her hands. The body not far from her is a handsome man, a businessman judging by his tailored suit. Greg says they were lovers and colleagues, but nothing more than that. Apparently he was her manager, and was as single as she was. John stays in the doorway while Sherlock bends down near the woman's body and starts working, taking in every little detail that might help him solve this case.

John puts his entire focus on Sherlock and takes in the fact that this, the work, is finally back in his life. He had gotten so tired of the ordinary life at the clinic and keeping a close eye on Mary, that he forgot what it's like to be in a crime scene again. He doesn't even try to help Sherlock right now; he needs his time to adjust to the turn his life has taken that has led him to this moment.

For a second, Sherlock stops walking around the bodies and gives John a look that makes John shift uncomfortably and avoid looking back. Sherlock in return straightens up and puts away his magnifying glass.

"Are you done?" John asks curiously. Sherlock smiles at him and already taking out a cigarette, turns to Greg.

"She didn't do it. I need to examine the body closer; send them both to Bart's and I'll take a look tomorrow morning." Greg folds his arms on his chest and raises one eyebrow at Sherlock's eagerness to leave.

"You don't need to check the flat? Nothing?"

"Of course I do, but not tonight. John and I need to return home; it's late and John is tired. He is not used to this anymore."

"I'm fine, Sherlock," John reassures him quickly. "We don't have to leave if you aren't finished. Either way, I know the way myself, you know, I can go home alone." Not that John wants to, obviously, but he is tired.  
He is even too tired to notice that he just referred to Baker Street as home again. But Sherlock notices, of course, and he can barely suppress a warm smile.

"Out of the question. Come on, John, Molly probably fell asleep in my bed already, and I don't want her there a second more than necessary."

Sherlock is already walking out of the flat, leaving his blogger and the detective inspector wide-eyed and confused. After a second, John comes back to his senses and clears his throat. "See you tomorrow, then," he says and walks after the tall man he adores.

"What was that about?" John asks Sherlock after they emerge from the fancy building and are headed down to the main road to hail a cab. Sherlock remains quiet for a long minute and lights his Marlboro cigarette.

"What was what?" Sherlock asks and inhales the smoke into his lungs.

"We could have stayed, you know. I trust Molly to watch over Emily… you didn't—I'm not that tired. It was okay," John mumbles, and the irrational fear that tonight was his last night in a crime scene with Sherlock again makes his stomach ache. Sherlock looks at him for a moment and smiles to himself, thinking that maybe making John want to crave his world again isn't going to be so hard after all. He tries to figure out when he should start seducing John so that something would happen between them, but John finally hails a cab for them and Sherlock has to put out his cigarette.

They both climb quietly to the back seat of the cab, looking out of the window as the cab starts heading toward Baker Street. After a few minutes, when they are already fairly close to Baker Street, John breaks the silence.

"Are you and Molly… are… hum… are you two—?" John mumbles again.

"We were, as people like to call it, together." John nods to himself, trying to register the new information. If someone had told him three years ago that Sherlock would go out with Molly, he probably would have laughed in their faces.

"What happened?" John asks out of pure curiosity, but Sherlock just remains silent; he can't tell John that he broke up with her in a text message the minute John walked into his flat with Emily, right? It would be, as John likes to phrase it, a bit not good. He is quite surprised, though, that John noticed the fact that there was something between them in the first place. He has almost forgotten that John has his own level of brilliancy; more than most people grant him.

The second the cab pulls out outside of 221B, Sherlock knows that something is completely and utterly wrong. He turns to see that John shows no sign of having the same understanding. John pays the cabbie and gets out of the car, leaving Sherlock in a debate about whether he should drag John back into the cab and send him to his house in the suburbs, where he'd be safe, or keep him with Sherlock, where he'd probably be in great danger.

He takes a deep breath and gets out of the car. John looks at him nervously and starts realizing that something must be wrong, but he doesn't have the slightest idea what is making Sherlock look so damn pale.

Sherlock goes toward the door, which is slightly open, not enough for John to notice, though, and stands still near it, as he takes another deep breath.

"Do you have your gun?" Sherlock asks John and takes out his own gun.

"What— what's wrong?"

"Do you have it or not?" Sherlock asks again impatiently and listens to the short man behind him as he inhales sharply.

"I... No, I don't have it on me." Sherlock turns to look at John and gives him a shocked gaze.

"Who are you and what have you done to John Watson?" he mumbles, though he regrets it the second it comes out of his mouth. He can feel that he hurt John, and before he can think it through, he has already apologized.

John sighs and pushes away the painful feeling Sherlock has caused him, trying to focus on whatever reason Sherlock has found to take out his gun.

"Stay behind me," Sherlock says to him and opens the door quietly. Up until that moment, John hasn't noticed that the door is already a bit open, and now he begins to understand that there's probably an intruder in their flat. With his luck, it can't just be a burglar, can it?

The hall is clear; if you had never set foot in there before you probably wouldn't find anything wrong, but both John and Sherlock can feel that something bad has happened in here not so long ago. Sherlock opens the door to Mrs. Hudson flat and disappears inside for less than a minute.  
"Sleeping," he reassures John and starts taking the stairs quietly, gesturing John to follow him.

When they both reach the upper level, John can feel his heart racing, and he has no idea what to expect. He can't believe that the amazing evening he just had with Sherlock is ending this way — with dread and panic rising in his body.

Sherlock opens the door. He never lowers his gun, determined to do whatever it takes to protect John. When they walk into the flat, the place is practically upside down. Half of their things are broken and smashed, Sherlock's experiments and notes are spread all over. It looks like there has been a huge struggle in here, and that is definitely not a good sign. Sherlock tells John to stay in the doorway and looks worried when he sees the color fade out of John's face as he solves the puzzle in his head.

John can't believe this is happening to him. He brought Emily to Sherlock to keep her safe, and now... now only god knows where she might be.

They took her. Someone took his Emily.

His little baby, his angel, his source of light in this cruel world — and with his luck it is probably Moriarty who just took her as if she is his own. He doesn't even notice when Sherlock comes back to him after he has scanned the entire flat, looking for something useful that will help him find Molly and Emily's location.

"John," Sherlock calls him and grips his shoulders, "John, we will find her. He will lead us to her. He wants me, not her." When Sherlock notices that John still isn't looking at him, and just stares hollowly at the open air, he shakes John and tights his grip on John's shoulders. "John, look at me," Sherlock calls to him again and then John finally meets his gaze. He looks more afraid than Sherlock has ever seen him, and it breaks Sherlock's heart into little pieces to watch the love of his life going through something like that. He knows that John probably imagines numerous dreadful scenarios that Sherlock tries really hard not to imagine himself, but he knows that James has no particular interest in little Emily and he probably won't hurt her. He has threaten Sherlock so many times about doing something bad to her; but Sherlock knows that he is the target, and not a 3 year old blond girl. He just wants to make Sherlock come after her, and with no other choice — that's what Sherlock is going to do.

With one shared look, their world narrows down to one thing, and one thing only: Emily.


	5. Chapter 5- Alone in the Middle of Nowhere

Alone In the Middle of Nowhere.

“John, sit.” Sherlock says to the still-shivering Doctor. When he sees that John won’t do such a thing as move by himself, he grabs his shoulders again and leads him to the couch. John doesn’t object and sits quietly. He stares at Sherlock who comes to sit next to him, with even less color on his face than usual.

 

Sherlock stares back at John and he feels his heart aching in his chest; John looks so miserable, so overwhelmed that Sherlock puts his entire mind on what he can do to make this man beside him feel a bit better, or at least get a hold of himself. 

John covers his eyes with his palms and tries to take a deep breath in order to control the panic that has already started to take over his body. He notices all the signs of panic attack: Hyperventilation, sweat, rapid pulse and, of course, his damn tremor. But no matter how hard he tries to control all those frustrating symptoms, he can’t stop thinking about the fact that Emily, his baby, is probably in the hands of the biggest criminal psychopath he has ever heard of. His child.

 

Sherlock's hand cuts down John’s train of thought as it rests gently on his back, and pats him slowly in a way that reminds John that he isn’t alone in this mess; Sherlock will help. Sherlock will help him save his baby. 

“Tea?” Sherlock asks him quietly, after a few minutes that feel like eternity as he continues stroking John’s back. John nods but keeps his face covered and tries to think. Think, he tells himself. Think harder than you have ever thought before; think rationally. Think like Moriarty; like a criminal mastermind—that’s the only way you and Sherlock can find Emily. 

Sherlock stops stroking John’s back and John tenses again in despair. Sherlock looks at him for a moment before deciding to carry on, to be at least a bit useful, and leave John to his difficult thoughts. Obviously, he would prefer to sit next to John and hold him close as long as he can, but that won’t be helpful for John, and Sherlock wants… no, he needs to help. 

He gets up from the couch and walks into the kitchen. He begins the normal ritual of making tea and picks John’s favorite mug (at least something to make him feel better). When he opens the cupboard under the sink in order to throw away the teabag, he jumps in surprise and accidently drops the cup on the floor. The cup shatters into pieces, but that doesn’t seem to affect Sherlock at all. Instead, he just looks at something under the sink with wide eyes and pale skin. John jumps in his seat and turns to look at Sherlock; even in his state, John can see that something has completely overwhelmed Sherlock and it makes him feel even more scared. “What happened?” 

Sherlock bends over so John can’t see what he is doing, but when Sherlock straightens up again, he holds in his arms a little crying creature.

 

“John, I think we’ve found our lost,” Sherlock says with a numb tone as he holds Emily close to him, while the little girl is crying her heart out. She puts her face in between the gap of Sherlock’s neck and holds him so tight, he’s afraid she might choke him. Her Tinkerbelle pajama is soaked with what smells greatly like urine, but Sherlock hugs her tightly anyway, ignoring the discomfort he might be feeling. John still sits overwhelmed on the couch—staring at his flat mate and daughter, who's clearly traumatized. John’s mind takes a few long seconds before kicking John back from his shock and into action. He practically runs to his daughter, who refuses to calm down, and tightens her arms around Sherlock as she thinks that John wants to hold her himself. John is taken aback by surprise from his little child’s rejection and isn’t quite sure what he should feel about that.

 

When he looks at Sherlock, though, he knows exactly why Emily prefers to hug him than to hug John. John is still very much shivering and looks like a mess, but Sherlock… Sherlock is standing there just as calm as ever; his presence and calmness affects Emily greatly—more than John could ever affect her in his state. He settles for patting her back, just to let her know that “Daddy’s here,” if she wants him to be. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts saying to her after a few minutes of nothing but his daughter’s sobbing, “tell us what happened.” Emily stops crying at once and finally looks up at her daddy and her godfather. She stays quiet, though, and focuses her gaze on Sherlock, as if she knows that he’d know what happened whether she would tell him or not. John stays confused, but Sherlock, as usual, understands that the little girl needs some time to recover first, if they want her to tell them something later. He smiles broadly at her and embraces her tightly. “Let’s get you in the shower, all right? Get you a clean and dry pajama and make you some… tea? John, do children drink tea?” 

John chuckles and stares at his unbelievable flat mate. He can’t believe how much Sherlock has changed during that time that he wasn’t part of John’s life. He is still Sherlock; brilliant, acute, rude and arrogant. Charming in his way and dedicated to his work more than anything else in the world. But this—this is new. He shows that he cares. He never showed that kind of emotion before. So even though John knew that he always cared, always loved, always was there for his friends and family (Mycroft should be damn grateful)grateful), it is nice to see it—to see how much he cares. If not for him, then for his little child. God knows that that’s exactly what she needs right now. 

“John?” John shifts his piercing gaze from Sherlock and rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. Sherlock raises an eyebrow in response but doesn’t say anything, probably because of Emily’s presence.

 

“Tea? Hum… I think she’d prefer some hot chocolate right now. Am I right, Em?” Sherlock feels Emily’s nod more than sees it, and he smiles a smile that makes John feel warmness in his chest.

 

“Hot chocolate it is then. But first—shower.” Sherlock says and starts walking with her to the bathroom. “Be so kind and bring her some underwear and dry pajama, will you?” John smiles and tries to think how he ever got so lucky. 

An hour later Emily is all washed up; clean and redressed and with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She still refuses to leave Sherlock’s side and sits on his lap. When Emily finishes her heavenly beverage and licks her lips, John figures that now might be a good time to start asking the hard questions. 

 

“Em, you know that you can tell us what happened, right? We really need to know if Aunt Molly needs any help from us. Can you please tell us what happened?” Emily freezes and looks at her daddy with big green sad eyes. Sherlock and John wait patiently, both smiling their best reassuring smile in order to make the little one feel safe, but she just sits on Sherlock’s lap and doesn’t say a word. 

When John starts to think about giving up, he hears his little daughter whisper. “Can I only tell Sherlock?” she asks, and John again feels hurt that his daughter trusts Sherlock more than she trusts her own father.

 

“Why, honey? Did I do anything wrong?” he asks her and refuses to look at Sherlock, who from the corner of his eyes John can see, looks at him with pity.

 

Again, Emily starts crying even more heartbrokenly than before. Sherlock spins her and hugs her tightly, and whispers something in her ear so John can’t listen in. John tries very hard not to cry; the thought of his own child loving Sherlock more is beyond devastating. Emily nods and Sherlock kisses her cheek lightly. He stands up, still with Emily in his arms, and tells John he will be right back. But John doesn’t listen, he can’t hear anything but Emily’s sobs and his own heart beating achingly in his chest. Maybe he should just leave her with Sherlock; he’ll take good care of her, and if she loves him more, then there isn’t any reason not to. Except that there is—she is his daughter, and he loves her more than life itself; he loves her more than he loves Mary, or more accurately—loved Mary. He loves her more than he loved his parents and more than he loves Harry. He also loves her more than he loves Sherlock, and that is indeed a lot. 

“Oh, John, would you stop looking so miserable?” John raises his head and sees Sherlock standing near the couch. He didn’t even notice him standing there until Sherlock spoke.

 

“She didn’t mean it the way it sounded, I guarantee,” Sherlock says and takes his place on the couch next to John. When John still doesn’t look at him, Sherlock holds John's face with both his hands and turns him so John can look him in the eyes. Sherlock's hands are still holding both sides of John’s face, and he has to use all his self-control in order not to lean in and kiss John. They remain like this for a few long seconds that feel like eternity to Sherlock; he feels his heart beating fast and the heat comes up to his face. John is looking at Sherlock with wide eyes that remind Sherlock that he absolutely can’t kiss John, not now. He takes his hands off John’s face and clears his throat. “Just look at me when I talk to you, okay?” Sherlock asks quickly before John can ask what the hell was that about. 

John nods slowly and keeps looking into Sherlock's bluish eyes. He can’t understand what just happened; other than the unexpected touch, there was something so vulnerable in Sherlock’s eyes—something that makes John blush and want to run away, because it scares the shit out of him. In a damn good way. 

“Emily didn’t want to say anything to you because she thought you’d be mad at her,” Sherlock explains slowly, still looking for the right words and trying his best to lay it down as gently as possible. He knows John won’t take the news well. John tilts his head, confused, and keeps looking into Sherlock's eyes to find more explanations.

 

“Mary was here, John,” Sherlock says quietly and sighs. “Mary was the one who came here and scared Emily and took Molly. Emily said she was with another man, she doesn’t know what he looks like because she promised Molly she’d hide in the cupboard no matter whose voice she heard, but she recognized her mother’s voice, and another man’s. She did say he sounded a bit funny, and yelled a lot, so that fits with Jim. John, are you all right?” Sherlock asks, when he sees that John is on the edge on a mental breakdown.

 

“She told you all that?”

 

“That’s what bothering you? I just told you that your wife is cooperating with someone who most likely answers to the name Moriarty, and they both took Molly, and that’s what you’re asking me?” Sherlock snaps and stands up from his seat. He tries very hard not to raise his voice and affect even further the little girl sleeping in his room. John can be such an idiot sometimes, Sherlock thinks to himself. John also jumps from his seat with rage; Sherlock almost regrets yelling at him. This murderous gaze always makes him feel like he has done something horrible, that he should feel sorry even if he really doesn’t.

 

It is too bad then, that all Sherlock can think about, staring at his best friend’s raging green eyes, that he is too sexy when he’s mad. But before Sherlock has the chance to dwell on that matter, John is already yelling. 

“I heard you perfectly well, Sherlock! Forgive me if I have no fucking solution to give you! Nothing at all! I’ve married this woman, that’s true, but I refuse taking responsibility for everything she does, not anymore. I’ve signed the damn divorce papers, Sherlock, so I’m allowed not to care.”

 

“No, you’re not. I don’t care that you married her, John, I care that she is the mother of your child, of your now-traumatized child, and that’s what you should care about also.” Sherlock tries to regain his patience, reminding himself that Emily must be listening to them. Sherlock sighs when he sees that he hurt John, and walks toward him. When there’s merely an inch separating them, Sherlock says with a low voice that he knows always calms John, “No one is blaming you, but I need your help.”

 

With that John raises his head to meet Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock needs him, and god knows he needs Sherlock even more. He nods slowly and realizes how close he is to Sherlock; it seems like they share the same air, that every breath that Sherlock exhales, John inhales, and the only thing that pops into John’s mind is—‘kiss me.’ 

He is so overwhelmed with that thought that he automatically takes a step back from Sherlock and takes a deep breath. He tells himself that it’s just the desperation for some human comfort. It’s been years since he thought about Sherlock that way, and Sherlock was always married to his work, always busy with everything but relationships. He wasn’t even sure that Sherlock liked sex before Janine. God, how much he hated Janine. She got from Sherlock what John never did; even married, John was so utterly jealous with her. 

Sherlock is talking to him, but John isn’t listening; he can’t, he needs to think. Sherlock, of course, notices that John is in a completely different world right now, and turns to the kitchen to make more tea before going to sleep. He thinks about the look on John’s face when he realized that Sherlock was so close to him, when he thought that Sherlock was going to kiss him. Sherlock was never sure about the way John loves him; he always insisted that he’s straight and that he and Sherlock were never more than colleges and friends. Good friends, but friends nonetheless.

 

He jumps in surprise when feels Emily nudging at his trousers in order to get him to notice her. He smiles at her fondly and tries to think when was the last time he loved someone so much and so fast—the answer, of course, is the little child’s father.

He lifts Emily to sit on the kitchen counter while he waits for the water to boil. She smiles back at him and tells him that she can’t sleep. He gives her a look full of understanding and glances back to the living room, where John lies on the couch with his eyes closed, but Sherlock knows him well enough to see that he isn’t sleeping.

 

“Why can’t you sleep?” he asks her when the water finally boils and the kettle turns off. She shrugs and Sherlock takes a deep breath. “That’s not an answer,” he tells her.

 

“I think I miss mommy,” she says quietly, as if ashamed to say so aloud. “Daddy doesn’t like mommy anymore, does he?” she asks Sherlock after a few seconds. Sherlock looks at her, surprised. It seems like she has better deduction skills than her own dad.

 

“Why do you think so?”

 

She shrugs again, and Sherlock takes another annoyed deep breath. She is just a child, be patient. She gets the hint and starts explaining: “Whenever I talk about mommy, daddy looks annoyed or he has that funny expression on his face. He never had that before. They used to yell a lot, especially the night daddy took me here…do people just stop loving each other so easily? What if daddy stops loving me also?” she asks Sherlock with tears in her eyes, and Sherlock feels his heart break a little. He can never stand to see a Watson cry.

 

He hugs her tightly and feels his shirt getting wet again from her tears. “No, not when they truly love each other. Some people are supposed to be together, and some are not. Your mom and dad were not supposed to be together, but don’t ever think that your dad doesn’t love you. He loves you more than anything else. I can show you the signs if you would like.” She nods and it seems like she is getting calmer. 

 

“Okay, for one, every time he looks at you, his eyes gleam with joy. Second, look at him now—what do you see?” Emily pushes herself away from Sherlock and looks at her father with wondering eyes.

 

“He is sleeping,” she says after a long minute. Sherlock shakes his head, “No, you see, he is trying to sleep, but he can’t. He is completely restless because he is trying to figure out a way he can keep you protected, so what happened before with mommy won’t happen again. Do you see?”

She looks thoughtfully at her father again, and nods slowly. “I can see he isn’t sleeping, he keeps moving his legs and he breathes more loudly than when he sleeps. But how do you know that he can’t sleep because of me?” she asks Sherlock, and he gives her a kiss on her forehead; he feels so proud of her. Just three years old and she already thinks better than most people do. She is definitely a Watson.

 

“Previous data,” he tells her and she giggles as he kisses her forehead again. For a moment, it almost feels like she is his own child. Not that he ever wanted one, of course, but if she is that clever and John’s, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. In that moment, he decides that he will help John with whatever he needs in order to raise this unbelievable child. He will be one heck of a godfather, he promises to himself. As if he is her father. 

“Is everything all right here?” Sherlock hears John’s voice from behind him; he can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes Sherlock’s heart melt in his chest. He nods and says “Perfect. Right, Emily?” he winks at her and she giggles and nods. “Everything is great, daddy,” she reassures John.

“Why aren’t you asleep? It’s late,” John says to her and looks at his clock. It is almost 02.00. 

“Not tired,” she shrugs, happy to see that Sherlock is looking at her dad, and not at her. She sees something in Sherlock’s eyes when he looks at her daddy, his eyes are practically shining, but she thinks it’s better to ask him about that later. So instead she just clears her throat, like daddy does every time he thinks he is interrupting something special. 

Sherlock looks at her with his scanning eyes, and blushes. She doesn’t understand why, but then again, she decides it’s another thing she needs to ask Sherlock in privacy. Sherlock eyes stops scanning her when his phone vibrates on the counter, and he picks it up to see who is looking for him. 

Sherlock nods at his phone and shows the text to John. The text informed them that Mycroft has found where Molly’s supposed to be. Sherlock and John look at each other and have one of their telepathic conversations. John nods, sighs heavily and picks up his daughter from the counter.

 

“Sherlock and I need to go for a bit, okay? Can you try to sleep?” Emily starts crying again, and that leaves John in a great dilemma.

 

“Which of us should stay with her?” Sherlock asks from behind him. John looks at him and sighs, “I don’t know. What do you think?”   
Sherlock can’t answer because Emily’s crying is getting louder and they both look at her, exhausted.

 

“I’m coming with you,” she says in between sobs. “I don’t want to be alone, and I don’t want any of you not coming back in time to go to bed.” John and Sherlock both chuckle, and they both know that it’d completely irresponsible of them to leave her alone in the flat, where Moriarty won’t hesitate to look for her. On the other hand, taking her with them seems equally insane.

 

“Lestrade is already on his way to the warehouse,” Sherlock says to him, “we can ask one of the cops there to keep an eye on her.” John looks at his crying daughter for a couple of seconds, trying to think about the risks in taking her with them and the risks in leaving her alone in the flat. Finally, he nods and Emily stops crying. 

They change her clothes so she will stay warm in the cold streets on London in the middle of the night, take their coats and walks out of the apartment. Sherlock holds Emily in his arms and waits while John tries to hail a cab for them.

 

“Sherlock, am I going to see mommy?” asks the sleepy figure in Sherlock’s arms. Sherlock exhales loudly and nods. “I think so,” he tells her.   
She keeps quite for a few seconds, but Sherlock knows she hasn’t fallen asleep yet, though she is exhausted. They enter the cab, Emily still in his arms, sitting on his lap and resting her head on Sherlock’s chest.

 

“Good,” she says, “tell daddy I love him.”

 

John and Sherlock look at each other, smiling. When Emily’s breaths even and her mind becomes a blur, she hears her dad’s low voice—“I love you, my sweet little child.”


	6. Why Are You Kissing The Scary Man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, chapter number SIX!   
> I'm really sorry it took so long, but I had good reason, I swear.   
> On that note, I'd like to thank everyone who wrote me to get well; it kept me strong.  
> And, of course, I'd like to thank my super-amazing beta, Old Ping Hai.
> 
> Enjoy

Why Are You Kissing The Scary Man?

When Emily opens her eyes from her weird dream about a talking rabbit, the car has pulled off next to a half dozen police cars in the middle of bloody nowhere. She looks around her and all she sees is the flashing sirens of the police cars and trees. Lots of trees. Other than that, there's a complete darkness, and Emily doesn't like creepy dark places. She starts feeling scared for a moment, and presses her head even further into Sherlock's chest, as if she can crawl into his body and he'll protect her as a shield. But then, instead of being scared, she listens carefully to Sherlock's beating heart and calms down instantly. The rapid- steady pulse soothes her in a way that makes her decide that Sherlock's heartbeats are now her favorite sound in the world. She feels safe; she knows that as long as she hears this heart beating – nothing bad can ever happen to her.

Sherlock opens the door and walks out of the cab; still with Emily in his arms. His arms are sore, but he holds her tight as if she is the most valuable thing in the world. He stands near the cab, waits for John to pay the cabbie, and doesn't move from his spot.

"I know you're awake," Sherlock whispers to her, "but don't make a sound and don't open your eyes. Can you do that?" He feels a slight nod and tightens his embrace. "If you want to see mommy, I need you to act as if you're still asleep. It's the only way to convince your father. I trust you, Emily, do your best." He kisses her temple softly and starts walking toward one of the police cars, where he knows he will find his favorite Detective Inspector.

Detective Inspector Lestrade is standing near his car and staring at the familiar tall figure walking toward him. The only thing that's wrong with that figure, is that it's holding a child.

Sherlock bloody Holmes with a child.

He knows it's probably John's child, Emily, if he remembers correctly, but that doesn't make this sight any less does his best to smile as Sherlock approaches him, and ignores the little blond girl in his arms.

"Care to explain? What are we doing here, Sherlock?" Sherlock looks at Emily for a second and takes a deep breath. He doesn't know how to explain this gently enough that she wouldn't start crying.

"Ms. Morstan", he starts, and looks at Lestrade to see if he understands. He does. "and Moriarty burst into our residence, and took Ms. Hooper. I talked to Mycroft, and he says that there's a great chance that Mo—I mean, Ms. Hooper, is in a warehouse half a mile from here. Moriarty and Ms. Morstan are probably there, too. I need you to back us up when we go in."

Lestrade looks at Emily in Sherlock arms, and tries not to wonder if she is included in the 'us' part of the plan. Trying not to think too much into it, he nods. "No problem. I'll make sure that everything goes smoothly. Have you got your… hmm… protection?"

Sherlock tugs the backside of his trousers and feels the reassuring hard metal that will help him, if necessary, to defend Emily and John. He nods and thanks Lestrade.

He turns around and looks for John, who still stands alone with his arms crossed. His clenched jaw and his posture says nothing but exhaustion. He tries to smile at Sherlock when he catches his gaze, but even a blind man could have seen that this smile is completely fake and filled with emotional distress.

"Are you ready?" Sherlock asks him. Not that he thinks even for a slight second that the answer would be 'no'.

"What about Emily? Can we leave her with Lestrade? Or Sally?"

"Of course not, John, what if something goes wrong and they have to come in? They will leave her alone in the car. She is sleeping, you can't just put her into Lestrade's arms and them let him leave her asleep in a police car. In the middle of the night. In a deserted forest." He feels Emily shake a bit in his arms to the sound of this horrible description. She hates being alone. But more than that, she hates being alone in the dark. "No way. It's either she is going with us, or one of us stays here."

John stares at him with the sort of anger and shock that only Sherlock is able to get from him. After a long minute of silence, his lips stretch into a tight and angry smile. "All right, then. You stay with her."

"No. Come on, let's go." Sherlock starts walking toward the dark warehouse, Emily still in his arms.

"What the hell do you mean 'no'?!" He hears John yelling behind him. "She is my child, Sherlock!"

"She is also Ms. Morstan's child, don't you think?" Sherlock says as he increases his pace and signals Lestrade that they are leaving for the warehouse.

"Ms. Morstan's child?! So now you are taking her side? How could you?" he says and grabs Sherlock's shoulder hard, hard enough that he almost drops Emily from the pain. He turns around and sees the murderous look in John eyes.

"Her side? This is some kind of a joke, right? It has nothing about taking sides, John. You know I… I have done some things in my life to protect you. Both of you. And I would do them again if your life was at stake. But right now, the child has a right to see her mother, and I wouldn't have tried to bring her if I thought she wouldn't be completely safe with us. She will be."

"Can you promise me that, Sherlock?"

"Yes."

They walk for a few minutes and stop right outside of the warehouse. Lights shining from the door's edges confirmed their suspicion that it was occupied. The three of them listen carefully; Emily, who now is standing next to Sherlock and holding his hand, is somehow the most composed of the three of them. She doesn't squint when she hears Moriarty's high pitch laughter, even though he still terrifies her, and she doesn't even gape when she hears her lovely sitter from earlier tonight cry in misery.

John, on the other hand, is covered with stress-sweat while his left hand stays completely still. It's not that he is afraid of danger, for god sake's, this is (Captain) John Watson we're talking about. No, he is afraid of his wi—ex wife. But more than that, he is afraid for his little brave child's life.

Even though he knows he can trust Sherlock with everything in his life, he can't stop worrying for Emily — physically and mentally. Whatever's in there, it may scar her for life.

Sherlock is the first one to make a move toward the door. He glances quickly to where Lestrade and his team are supposed to be and confirms that they are keeping an eye on them. He squeezes Emily's hand and opens the door.

They all go still; John looks angry, Sherlock has a rare expression of surprise and Emily just seems confused, but all for the same reason. In the small warehouse they see the thing none of them expected to see—Mary Morstan Watson and James Moriarty were kissing. Not a friendly 'peck on the cheek' kind of kiss, but a kiss that only two passionate lovers might share.

Emily is the first one to speak, but she does so very quietly that Mary barely hears her, but she does.

"Mommy?" she whispers. Mary breaks the kiss and turns her head to see Emily staring at her with her big green eyes. "Sweetie…" she begins, but Emily ignores her.

"Why are you kissing the scary man? You told me that when people kiss that's only because they love each other more than anything."

Mary takes a step toward her, and Emily takes another step back but keeps her hand tight in Sherlock's.

"Why are you kissing the scary man, mommy? You said that you'd only ever kiss daddy. You said that."

There are tears sliding on her face, but her voice doesn't crack.

All the eyes in the room are locked on the little girl, the brave one with the messy blond hair, but no one knows what else there is to say.

Emily moves her eyes from her mother, and looks at the bleeding sitter who is tied to a chair. She squeezes Sherlock's hand harder and looks at Molly again. He nods and releases her hand, taking a step toward Molly.

"Where do you think you're going?" Moriarty says and in a split second, there's a gun pointed at Sherlock's direction. Emily gasps behind him in fear and turns to bury her head in her daddy's leg.

"You know, I didn't come here in the middle of the night to watch the two of you exchange body fluids. I need Molly to come home with me." Sherlock takes another step toward Molly and stops when Moriarty turns off the safety latch.

"If you go on another step, I promise you, I will blow up your head," he says calmly, and smirks when Sherlock's head turns quickly toward the shaking child.

"What do you want?" John asks him with enough venom in his voice to scare anyone. Anyone but James Moriarty, it seems.

"You and your brat can go, Johnny boy, this is for Sherlock."

John meets Sherlock's gaze and it seems like they're having one of their telepathic conversations. Although, judging by their faces, it looks more like an argument.

"Sherlock…"

"Just go, John."

"I can't. Sorry." John moves his gaze from Sherlock's and pulls his own gun, aiming it directly on Moriarty. He shoves Emily behind him and feels her holding tight to his trousers. Sherlock grunts and shakes his head. This was not part of his plan.

"All right, then. Welcome aboard, Johnny," Moriarty lets a big grin show up on his face.

"Sherlock, do you want to rescue your beloved? You know what you have to do, don't you?" Jim's grin gets somehow larger and meets his eyes.

"What do you need now?" Sherlock asks irritated. He was going to tell John all about this before, but it seems like the truth is about to come to light, and it's not even the complete one. He just knows that John will feel betrayed and won't listen to him. God, he hopes he is wrong.

"Your little friends from the Yard are starting to annoy me," Moriarty starts. "I assume you've heard about the missing senator?" Sherlock nods and tries to ignore John's piercing stare on his back.

"Well, I know you've been very helpful to them so far, but I need you to lead them to the other direction. I need a bit more time."

Sherlock takes a deep breath. He has to do it as convincingly as possible. He can't just jump and say he'll do it, right? Moriarty is suspicious enough.

"You know, Sherly, you can say no." He says and shifts his gun toward Molly. "But then you'll have no one to sleep with you. Your choice." Sherlock takes another deep breath and looks at Moriarty as if he is daring him to shoot.

Moriarty loads his gun and presses it closely to Molly's skull. She hasn't made a sound until now. She is sobbing and murmuring to herself. Probably prayers.

"Fine!" Sherlock shouts. "Fine, I'll do it. I'll lead them the other way. Two days, Moriarty, that's all you'll have from me." He swallows hard and breathes fast.

"It's a deal. You can come take her now." He lowers his gun and glares at Sherlock. "But if you won't, I promise you that she won't live long enough for you to fuck her." Sherlock gives him the most murderous look he has, and Mary nudges him strongly in the ribs for talking like that next to her little daughter. It makes Sherlock and John even angrier that this is the only scenario she thinks is twisted in this entire ordeal.

Sherlock unties the ropes that keep Molly stuck to the chair while she sobs quietly. The second the last rope is hanging loose she gets up and turns to bury her head into Sherlock's neck. He hugs her and whispers to her, ignoring everyone's stare on them. Ignoring Emily's curious look and John's shocked one. He has a lot to explain later.

"Let's go home," he whispers to Molly and she nods. He kisses her forehead and breaks the hug, indicating her to walk outside. Sherlock waits until Molly and John walk out, right into the warm arms of Lestrade's team. Emily stays in the warehouse and still looks at him with the suspicious look on her face. Sherlock bends to her and takes her hand; "Any questions you may have, I'll answer them tomorrow. Let's go home, all right?" She tightens her grip in Sherlock's with a big warm smile, and nods.

God, he loves that child.


End file.
